


Dressed Up

by moon_lines



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Dresses, F/F, Femslash, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, RPF, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-18 00:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_lines/pseuds/moon_lines
Summary: The first time Laura’s knee brushes hers under the table, Marisha’s sure it’s an accident.





	Dressed Up

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a prompt on criticalkink.
> 
> RPF. Does what it says on the tin. This does not leave the archive, or get linked anywhere the actual, real humans involved might see it.

The first time Laura’s knee brushes hers, Marisha’s sure it’s an accident. They don’t sit next to each other often, and neither has the hang of the other’s wriggling or personal space requirements yet.

The second time, the contact lasts just a little longer, Laura’s warm, smooth skin pressing into her own, the lack of length to the fancy dresses they’ve both chosen for tonight having unexpected consequences. Marisha shoots Laura a sharp look. Nothing that the cameras might pick up as anything unusual, of course, and it seems like she’s too subtle, because Laura doesn’t pick up on it either. Unless she does. She’s inscrutable, anyway.

The third time, it’s not Laura’s knee, it’s her hand. Marisha can make out every individual finger as they rest on her lower thigh. Another half an inch and they’d be under the hem of her dress. Marisha fights the urge to squirm.

“What do you think, Beau?”

“Oh, uh, I, what?” She’s lucky it’s easy to play up Beau’s distraction to mask her own.

“I do not think Beauregard has been listening.” Caleb’s words rankle, but there’s a twinkle in Liam’s eye across the table. Marisha wonders how much he’s noticed from there. Whether she’s more obvious than she thinks she is. Shit. Focus. Right. It helps that Laura withdraws her hand, and Marisha takes a moment to mourn its absence, fancies she can feel her skin tingling in the shape of Laura’s palm, before she takes a long, slow breath and gets her head back in the game.

For the next hour or so, Laura keeps her hands to herself and firmly on top of the table. Marisha tells herself that’s fine. That she’s not looking at Laura’s fingers, wrapped around the stem of her wine glass, or drawing lazy circles on her notepad, at the edge of Marisha’s peripheral vision. Marisha tells herself she doesn’t care. Tells herself that she’s not picturing those same fingers making those same patterns on her own body.

She mostly manages to keep it together, but then Jester flirts with Beau. And it’s not like that hasn’t happened before, it’s not like that doesn’t happen all the time, because that’s who Jester is, and hell, if anything comes of it, that’ll be a really fun romance to play out. But this time Laura catches Marisha’s eye at just the right moment… there’s just the right mischievous edge to her smile… and Marisha suddenly feels like someone took all the air out of the room. She’s genuinely not sure if it’s Beau blushing or herself.

They wrap up not much later, and it’s barely a moment after the cameras are off when Laura leans in close to Marisha’s ear.

“That dress looks really good on you,” she says, half a whisper that only Marisha hears, and Marisha feels another flush spread across her cheeks as she turns and finds herself gazing at the plunging neckline of Laura’s own outfit. “But it’ll look better on the floor,” Laura continues, with a grin. It’s a line no one but Laura fucking Bailey could get away with.

Laura turns to Travis and murmurs in his ear next, something Marisha only catches part of, but the gist is that she’ll meet him at home. He grins too, wide and knowing, winks at Marisha, kisses his wife, and takes off.

Marisha turns to Matt, suddenly a bit unsure what to say, but Laura’s got this too. “Goodnight, Matt,” Laura says, taking Marisha by the hand. “Marisha’ll have a great story to tell you later.”

Marisha starts giggling helplessly, and she shrugs at Matt, who smiles back at her and blows her a kiss as Laura tugs her forward, pulling her off the set.

The rest of the studio is dim and cool at this time of night. Most people have packed up and left already, as Marisha follows Laura to the little office with the door that locks. She tries for a moment to tell herself she isn’t watching Laura’s ass in her silver silk dress the whole way there, but then gives up and stares, unashamed.

The moment they’re inside, the door having clicked shut behind them, Laura steps in close to Marisha, leans up, and kisses her. This isn’t their first kiss, nor their second, but it’s definitely their most intense yet. There’s meaning in this kiss, an unmistakable _intent_ , and Marisha almost stumbles in her platform heels as Laura pushes her back against the door behind them.

Marisha melts into the kiss, winding her hands through Laura’s thick, gorgeous hair like she’s been dreaming about for god-knows-how-long now. It feels just as good as she thought it might, especially when she tightens her grip on it and Laura gives a tiny, desperate gasp against Marisha’s mouth. Laura’s hand slips around her back and down to her ass, pulling her in tight against her and Marisha’s suddenly aware that there’s way too much fabric between them. _Fucking_ petticoats.

Laura breaks the kiss just long enough to say, “Clothes. Off. Now,” and Marisha is suddenly painfully aware that she’d do literally anything for that specific tone of Laura’s voice. 

She reaches up behind herself and scrabbles at her zipper, but the angle is really awkward and she can’t quite get to it. And then Laura’s laughing, a delightful bubble of a sound, and says, “come here,” and takes her by the shoulders and turns her around. Laura unzips Marisha’s dress slowly, and Marisha can feel goosebumps in the wake of Laura’s breath on her newly bared skin. Laura presses a kiss to the centre of her back, where her bra would have been had she worn one today, and Marisha shivers and leans back into Laura’s waiting arms.

The dress puddles on the floor at her feet and she kicks it aside. She thinks briefly of the sight she’d make for anyone coming through the door right now - killer heels and a froth of white petticoat, bright lipstick smeared all to hell and Laura’s hands cupping her naked breasts. And then Laura’s fingers flick over her nipple and the thought is lost in a sharp indrawn breath and a surge of heat.

Laura sprinkles kisses over the back of Marisha’s shoulder and up the side of her neck, at the same time as she slides one hand down Marisha’s belly, over her hip and then reaches around, under the layers of lace.

“I could…” She makes a low sound as Laura’s hand creeps up her inner thigh. “I could take it off?”

Marisha can feel Laura’s smirk against the nape of her neck. “Don’t you dare,” Laura tells her, her voice now a low growl that Marisha almost wouldn’t have believed of her, had she not heard her incredible vocal range before. “These, however…” Laura hooks her fingers around Marisha’s underwear, tugging over her hips to join her dress on the floor.

And then Laura brushes just one fingertip, just lightly against Marisha, and Marisha knows she’s finding damp curls there, knows that any moment Laura will know how wet she is already, how badly she wants Laura to touch her, and she’s so incredibly aware that this is _Laura_ \- Laura’s hands and Laura’s mouth, and Laura’s breasts crushed against her back, and for a moment she can barely remember how to breathe.

“You ok, beebee?” Laura pauses, her voice suddenly full of sweetness and concern, and a term of endearment that she’s only recently started using for Marisha, and that’s all it takes for Marisha’s world to right itself. This is _Laura_ , and this feels perfectly, absolutely right.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Marisha’s own voice comes out rough around the edges, her tone closer to Beau’s than usual. “I’m good, Laura… I just… I just want…” She shifts her hips, questing for Laura’s touch again, and Laura obliges, sinking her fingers into slick heat.

She finds Marisha’s clit and flutters one fingertip over it, a light, electric touch that has Marisha biting her lip for a second, before it’s gone. The next touch is gentle again, a finger circling her entrance and then sliding just a little way inside and back out again, and a quiet whimper escapes her.

“Still good, _darling_?” The emphasis on the word, the undertones of Vex, are absolutely deliberate, and Marisha knows she’s being played like a fiddle and it’s so incredibly goddamned hot.

“Fuck… Laura…” She moves again, trying to find purchase against Laura’s hand. She wants… she wants... 

Laura doesn’t hold out on her for long. She dips one finger inside Marisha again and then a second, just enough to feel really fucking good, and then she moves back to Marisha’s clit, setting up a slow, back-and-forth rhythm that has Marisha shuddering against her.

Marisha can feel the heat building, feels her legs getting weak. She reaches forward to brace her arms against the door, and Laura follows her movements, picking up her pace, and Marisha makes a sound halfway between a moan and a pleading whine. Her blood rushes in her ears and she pants for breath as she feels herself getting close, as Laura draws more and more noises from her, her fingers the very centrepoint of Marisha’s world.

Marisha feels her muscles tighten, so, so _fucking_ close, and then Laura’s voice again, purring right against her. “Come on, Marisha, come for me.”

And Marisha does. The tension finds its height and with a colourful murmured curse, she topples over the edge in a brilliant flash of pleasure that pulses right through her, sending her spiralling.

She rests her forehead against the door in front of her, taking deep, gasping breaths as Laura’s hand slows and stills, as she rides out the little, shivering aftershocks with Laura’s arm firm about her, holding her steady.

“Still good?” Laura asks, after a moment. There’s a self-satisfied quality to it that’s well-earned, but that also sparks something primal, deep in Marisha’s core.

She picks herself up, takes Laura by the waist, and spins her around in one fluid motion. Laura barely has time to let out a yelp of surprise before Marisha kisses her hard and thoroughly. When she breaks away, she notices that Laura looks almost as wrecked as she feels - that her makeup’s a mess, her lips swollen with kissing, and her eyes wide and dark.

“You trying to out-do me?” Laura asks, panting, a wild grin on her face.

Marisha puts her finger to Laura’s lips and puts every scrap of swagger she can muster into her words. “There’s no ‘trying’ about it. Now, hush.”

Laura raises a perfect eyebrow. God, she’s hot. “Make me.”

 _Challenge accepted_. Marisha drops to her knees, pushes Laura’s dress up, and drags her underwear down and out of the way. Laura’s back hits the door just as Marisha pushes her legs a little apart and nuzzles into the warmth there, revelling in the scent of her. She gives Laura just a split second to react to that, a pleased little sigh, before she places a couple of sucking kisses on Laura’s inner thighs.

Then she stops, looks up at Laura looking down at her. “Have you done this with Travis in here?”

Laura nods, grins absolutely wickedly. “Ashley, too.”

Marisha lets out a burst of laughter. That’s something she definitely wants to hear more about at some point, but for now, she has some catching up to do.

She uses one hand against Laura’s ass to steady herself and the other to part Laura’s labia, making space for her mouth, her tongue. Laura tastes amazing, just as good as Marisha knew she would, and she’s wet and soft and Marisha can’t get enough of it. The angle isn’t the best but she makes it work, and Laura’s little breathy whimpers when she finds a good spot are so much more than worth it.

Laura is not quiet in her pleasure, and Marisha follows the sounds she makes, learns what she needs to do to draw squeaks and gasps and low, shivering moans. She finds a pattern of quick, firm strokes, feels Laura tense against her mouth, feels her get wetter still, her hands tangled in Marisha’s hair, the sounds she’s making almost too much for Marisha to handle.

Marisha feels it, and she knows Laura’s close, and she thinks about stopping, about dragging this out, keeping Laura right on the edge until she’s begging her for it. But then Laura clutches at her and moans her name, and it’s too late, Marisha couldn’t stop now if she wanted to. She keeps up, and when Laura comes, with a long, drawn-out cry, it’s… everything.

Resting her head against Laura’s thigh, Marisha tries to catch her own breath, to still her own racing heart.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Marisha looks up again to see Laura smiling, her expression almost dopey, and her hair and dress in glorious disarray.

“Come up here,” Laura says, after another moment, and Marisha stands, on shaking legs, and kisses her. It’s a soft kiss this time, sloppy and breathless still.

She leans against Laura, who slips her hand back under the ridiculous petticoat that Marisha’s somehow still wearing. She doesn’t complain when Laura’s fingers find their way to her clit again. When Laura rubs in messy circles, she moans her approval and grinds down against her. It hardly takes a moment before she comes again, making a wordless noise and burying her face in Laura’s neck. It’s gentler this time, lighter, though no less good for that.

They both slide to the floor not long after, side by side, and Laura rests her head against Marisha’s shoulder. Marisha lifts Laura’s hand to her lips and kisses her knuckles, and files away the thought of making her beg, for later consideration. Maybe she’ll ask Travis for some tips, though she’s pretty sure she doesn’t need them.

This is definitely the start of something awesome.


End file.
